


A Simple Trade

by Bythedevilsluck



Category: Dying Light (Video Game)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-22
Updated: 2018-09-22
Packaged: 2019-07-15 14:27:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16065038
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bythedevilsluck/pseuds/Bythedevilsluck
Summary: Rahim’s failed attempt to blow up the volatile nest doesn’t end in death for the young man. Instead, Crane manages to swoop in and save his life, before single handedly completing the job that he couldn’t. Upon his recovery however, Rahim is begining to feel the pressure as further punishments and regulations are thrust upon him. It seems as though no one will treat him like the full grown man that he is, and certainly no one trusts him anymore. As his frustration builds, solidarity seems to come from an unexpected new face - someone who might just understand where he’s coming from.





	A Simple Trade

**Author's Note:**

> Rating: Eventually Explicit, atm ~Teen
> 
> Current content warnings and kinks: language, borderline sexism
> 
> Future content warnings and kinks: nsfw, homosexuality, m/m, power differentials, questionable consent, older/younger, pornographic content, possible violence, references to past deaths, manipulation, virginity/first time
> 
> Hamza is just a rando dude I invented. So don’t go looking for him.

Kyle Crane looked as though he had picked a side, but still wasn’t entirely sure if he stood on solid ground. Even so, he defended his position without waffling. Kyle Crane was just like that. He never marinated in uncertainty and anxiety, the way a lot of people did when it came to making tough decisions. He just moved. Like how he ran. He wasn’t just strength, but agility. Flexibility. Rahim admired that. 

“I know, it doesn’t look great,” Crane continued, focusing on Brecken. The two men had been debating the adoption of some Rais defector looking to switch sides. Rahim had only entered the room a few minutes back, but it seemed like they had already been at it a while. “but he could be useful, he knows literally everything about how Rais’ group works, maybe even where they’re stashing the antizen-“ 

“I don’t know.” Brecken leaned over, grasping the back of a dining chair and shifting his weight onto it, squeezing the wood. “It feels like a trap to me.”

“And, it could be. But I know the guy, I can keep an eye on him, and honestly Brecken, he’s been doing fine so far.”

“24-7?” The Aussi stood up upright again, clearly unconvinced. “Fuck Crane, most days you’re not even here 6 hours, let alone enough to watch somebody—and any idiot can grit their teeth and grin through a probationary period.”

Rahim, who had gone unnoticed until that point, snorted and shook his head. “Why are we even discussing this?“ He asked. 

Obviously it was a risk, but it was a risk worth taking. The payoff of milking information from a former Rais asshole was dripping the promise of a thousand possibilities. Stashes, ambushes, tactical information. A thorough sizing up of the enemy that was otherwise superficial at best.

The two men looked surprised a moment, Crane raising his brows and folding his arms over his chest. The runner shot a quick glance toward Brecken, as though taking the temperature of the interaction to come.

“Crane’s right,” Rahim continued, unperturbed by the sudden quiet. “we-“

Brecken turned, flicking his focus sharply onto the young man. “ _You_ aren’t discussing anything.”

Rahim flushed and his face pinched into a scowl. He’d been feeling the heat for the last week or so, sure, but things had died down to mostly subtext as bigger more pressing issues forced their way to the forefront. Rahim had held out hope that as time passed, his sins might have been forgotten. “What? Why not? I have a right to my say. I’m part of the team!”

Crane dipped his head awkwardly. “Rahim-“

Brecken raised his hand, silencing the runner. “Yeah, you /were/. Before you broke that trust and almost got yourself killed. Now, you deal with the consequences. You’ve been demoted. Indefinitely.”

Rahim’s extremities went cold. “What?” He shouted. “You can’t do that!”

“I just did.”

“For how long?”

“Until I decide otherwise.”

Rahim clenched his fists hard, a slight tremble running through his hands, dissipating as it reached his arms. They couldnt do this to him. He’d payed his dues. In blood and sweat and sleepless nights he’d damn well paid them. “Fuck this.” He hissed, his voice getting louder. “Fuck this shit! Fuck you!” First they kept him there, like some kind of animal in a bloody cage as people died in the streets. His streets. And now this. He needed a drink. He needed all the drinks. “I’m not some fucking kid you can fucking ground Brecken.” 

“You are a kid god damnit and if anything ever happened to you your sister would have my balls.”

“My sister? Is that what this is about?!”

“No. God damnit Rahim, _I_ don’t want anything to happen to you. You’re my responsibility. Everyone in the tower is. You mean a lot to me.” He paused shaking his head. “But that’s not what this is about, it’s about trust and betrayal. You broke it. Remember?”

“Because you gave me no fucking choice.” A man could only be backed into a corner so long before he lashed out. What did they expect from him? 

“I’m not changing my mind Rahim, the decision’s been made.”

“Well it’s bullshit.” Rahim barked. “You’re all full of fucking bullshit!” Rahim turned suddenly and yanked the door to the headquarters room open before storming out. 

He was sick of everything. Sick of the tower, sick of Brecken and Crane and their fucking bromance, sick of the tight fisted reign his older sister kept on him. _He_ was the eldest son. He was past 16 - the legal age of adulthood in Harran. _He_ should be the head, not her. 

When he got to the supply room, the door was open, as usual. Rahim shoved his way in anyway, pushing past Hamza, who backed up a step to avoid a collision and nearly fell into a metal shelf strewn with toilet paper and feminine hygiene products. Hamza was the guy tasked with keeping track of things. He had an average build, but with a slight doughiness about him that gave him a soft, benign kind of feel. 

“Hey!” He started in surprise. “Rahim. What’s up?” 

Hamza may have been the guy they had assigned to keep tabs on all the surplus food and supplies leftover after the quartermasters were issued their share, but he didn’t usually do a great job of it. He wasn’t the guy in charge, just the one that kept a lazy eye on whatever came and went, and typically spent his days asleep in the back corner, clipboard sliding off his lap. Rahim was surprised to find him awake.

Spike was the guy at the top of the supply chain, but he spent too much time in the field to be counting plastic tubed all day.

“Need to restock.” Rahim wasted no time as he made his way to the back-most shelf, where they usually kept the cigarettes. Instead, he found an assortment of nut-bars scattered in a old shoebox. He frowned, turning and checking the usual spot where they kept the alcohol. It was missing too, a stack of water-bottles with torn-off labels laying there instead. Snatching one, he twisted off the cap and sniffed. Nothing. Just fucking water. 

“Seriously?” He snapped. “Where’s the booze?”

Hamza looked nervous. 

Rahim squinted, the muscles in his jaw quivering as waves of tension rippled through them. “Hamza?”

“Ever since...” the other young man trailed off. 

“Ever since what?” Rahim prodded. “Huh?” He knew the answer. “Ever since what?!”

Hamza held the clipboard in front of his abdomen like a shield, as if to block out the waves of rage inundating him, but spoke in nonsensical circles of “ums” and “wells”. 

“Ever since I took the explosives, is that it?!”

“It was your sister! Jade. She was all over Spike about keeping a tighter fist on the supplies. Especially the dangerous ones...”

Rahim felt the heat burning in his face again. “Fucking living is dangerous!” He spat. “It’s the goddamn zombie apocalypse. Just, where is it?” 

Hamza pointed to a caged area.

“Key?”

“I, I can’t Rahim. I have to clear it with Spike first.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Rahim tugged on the makeshift chainlink cage, but it was locked tight. “Just fucking open it, okay?!”

“I can’t!”

“Fuck this shit!” Rahim walked out. Everything was falling apart. No one trusted him anymore. Instead of feeling more like a man, he felt more like an infant, new rules and extra sets of eyes all over the place. All he wanted was to pull his weight. What was so wrong with that? This was his fucking city. _His city,_ not theirs.


End file.
